


10.6

by bonebo



Series: Kinktober '16 [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Concubine, Dubious Consent, Kinktober, Lactation, Male Lactation, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8230240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: The dawn was always Genji's favorite thing to watch.
  kinktober 6 - male lactation





	

Dawn rising over the Shimada estate is always Genji’s favorite thing to watch. The way the sun cracks over the distant mountains and shines bright through the crisp air, the golden light spilling through the thickets of sakura trees and shining on the water of the river beyond the gates, the way the world seems to wake up and come alive under the glowing warmth--it always takes his breath away to witness the day’s beginning, and in the quiet still of the new morning he’s reminded of his own insignificance. It’s comforting, in a way, just how unimportant he is; to know that the sun will rise no matter his mistakes, that even if he will never bring honor to his family he will never hinder the rushing waters or crisp breeze.

Genji sighs softly, letting his forehead rest against the cool window of Hanzo’s office and listening to his brother ready himself for the day. He wonders, fleetingly, if Hanzo will allow him to venture outside; he does so miss feeling the wind ruffle through his hair and listening to the murmur of the stream, all but tasting the sweet, floral notes on the breeze--

“Genji.” Hanzo’s voice is sharp, impatient, and snaps him out of his reverie; Genji glances over his shoulder and sees Hanzo settling himself down at his desk, rearranging papers, his lips pinched in a scowl. With a small, wry smile, Genji remembers his brother never was a morning person. Why he insists on getting up before dawn remains a mystery. 

Hanzo looks over and meets Genji’s gaze, gestures with his fingers to the small cup sitting on his desk. “My tea is getting cold. Quit dawdling.”

“Ah--I’m sorry, anija,” Genji murmurs, giving one last, longing look to the window and the alluring sky; he quietly walks over to Hanzo’s side, the silk robe he’s donned in shuffling softly as he moves, and bends low so he’s closer to the desk. With practiced fingers and a slow-burning, humiliated flush darkening his cheeks, he reaches up to push aside the fold of his yukata and take one nipple between his fingertips, and gives it a tug. 

For the first few pulls there’s nothing--Genji bites his lip to keep himself quiet and tries to ignore Hanzo’s piercing gaze, tries to think of the golden beams of dawn and not the impatient tapping of Hanzo’s fingers on his desk. He squeezes and pulls on his tit until it hurts, and just as Hanzo is starting to get restless, just as Genji is starting to get panicked, a thin stream of milk jets from his nipple to splash into Hanzo’s cup. Genji sighs and relaxes, relieved as his milk starts to flow with ease, and continues to milk his nipple until Hanzo’s tea is the exact creamy shade he prefers it to be. 

“Good.” Hanzo reaches up, running his fingertip along Genji’s nipple to collect the stray droplets and popping it into his mouth. Genji’s blush darkens, and he looks away; it never fails that every time he’s thinks he’s beyond it, Hanzo finds a new way to make him feel scandalized. 

“Run along, Genji,” Hanzo says, settling back in his chair and waving a hand dismissively at his brother, raising the cup of tea to his lips. “Your duties are waiting for you in the main hall--it would seem many people are thirsty, this morning. Come back when you’ve satisfied them.”

Genji stands rooted to the spot, swallowing down his protest and humiliation like thorns. He manages a stiff bow and a quiet murmur of, “Yes, Hanzo,” before he turns on his heel and quietly leaves the room, each step bringing him closer to tears.

He doesn’t think of the hungry mouths and eyes waiting for him in the hall--he doesn’t think of the hands that will grab his flesh, the teeth that will sink in and mark his soft skin. Instead Genji thinks of the ever-coming dawn, and the hope that comes in watching a new day awake.


End file.
